Mem told Darcy that we deeply regret our uncle’s failure to respond, just as we regret that he is not a regular churchgoer. Would Darcy like to come by after the service and speak with our uncle, though? We certainly have every hope that he will be home. (And that is the truth!) Darcy blushed at the invitation and nodded his acceptance to his shoes.
Darcy’s leg is not so crooked, as I recall, nor his face so ugly. His voice is even more beautiful when he lifts it in song. I could hear him above all the others on the men’s side of the church, for even though he did not sing loudly, he sang lovely, and the men around him followed his lead. Normally there is much squeaking above and grumbling below the key of our tortured tunes, with some singing to York melody and others to St. David’s and running over to Oxford by the end.
As we broke for the nooning, Goody Corey looked around and asked who the songbird might be. There were many new faces in the crowd today, driven through the rain by the excitement of the witch affliction. I introduced Darcy, and asked him to sing Goody Corey’s favorite Psalm, but all he could do was blush and mumble. He is as humble as a dandelion. He will make some girl a kind husband someday.
Darcy, when he found his voice again, expressed wonder at the affliction he saw. Today some of the girls actually performed their antics between the sermons and prayers! It was the first time I had witnessed their twisting and screaming close-up. The sight and sound made me shiver. Thank God I never received my desire to be their friend. If they had not rejected me, I might well be suffering the same pinches and pushes! How embarrassing it would be to have Darcy watch me run around like a chicken with its head cut off!
When we got home and found our uncle missing, we expressed surprise and disappointment. Darcy’s face fell. Looking at him, Mem’s face fell, too. I cannot imagine any couple looking more dejected. What a dear soul he is, to feel his father’s pain so deeply! If courtship is indeed what he is after, I suppose Mr. Cooper would like to proceed with it every bit as much as Mem would like to have him do so.
Monday ye 29th
This is the end of February, and good riddance. The wind and rain howled all through the night and flooded the rivers. It was a witch storm. Today Mem and I are staying home.
Later …
The weather did not keep everyone home. Several men of the Village traveled the treacherous road to Salem Town to swear complaints against Tituba Indian, Sarah Goode, and Sarah Osborn for suspicion of witchcraft. The three witches have been arrested. At ten o’clock tomorrow morning they will be questioned at Ingersoll’s Ordinary, by the magistrates John Hathorne and Jonathan Corwin. They are both very important men, members of the highest court in the colony. Mem and I shall go early to find a seat.
Tuesday ye 1st of March
I could not sleep all the night, with my mind spinning about the witches. I got up while it was still dark and did all the work. Now I am waiting for Mem to wake up so we can go to the Village.
What evidence shall we see, I wonder? Unless they wish to confess, I doubt the witches will ride their broomsticks in front of us, or show us their blasphemous rituals, or consent to display their supernatural strength. Certainly midwives will search them for the place they use to give suck to the Devil when he becomes a bird, a turtle, or some other small creature. Perhaps the constables will search their belongings and find their dolls they prick with pins to torment people. Surely they will be forced to pray; witches cannot recite prayers without mistakes. And of course they will be asked if they have a familiar, usually a dog or cat, that goes about doing their evil business.
They will definitely be asked if they have signed the Devil’s Book where the witches write their signatures in blood.
Later
Ingersoll’s when we got there had filled to the brim and spilled onto the lawn, with more people flocking along the muddy roads. Goodman Corey came galloping up without his wife. Mem looked for Mr. Cooper, but he was absent. At last the magistrates arrived with all the trappings of their offices and their imposing array of constables and aides. They adjourned to the Meeting House.
The two magistrates took seats at a long table in front of the pulpit, facing the assembly. The witches were placed on a platform to keep them apart from the crowd. Sarah Goode wore a sour expression, as always, and met the crowd stare for stare. Tituba kept her face blank and down-turned. Sarah Osborn, whom I was seeing for the first time, seemed ready to wilt like an old blossom and drop to the ground. Goody Corey was right: The woman is just about all used up.
The Reverend Parris began with an impassioned prayer to rid the world of the great enemy of God that had been set loose among us. The marshals who brought the witches in stated that they had made diligent search for their puppets and familiars, but could find none. Then Tituba and Sarah Osborn were removed from the house, and Sarah Goode was examined.
Mr. Corwin hardly spoke a word, but in Mr. Hathorne she had met her match in orneriness. “Sarah Good, what evil spirit have you familiarity with?” — None. “Have you made no contracts with the Devil?” — No. “Why do you hurt these children?” — I do not hurt them. I scorn it. “Who do you employ then to do it?” — I employ nobody. “What creature do you employ then?” — No creature; but I am falsely accused. “Why did you go away muttering from Mr. Parris’s house?” — I did not mutter, but I thanked him for what he gave my child. “Have you made no contract with the Devil?” — No.
The four afflicted girls — Betty Parris, Abigail Williams, Ann Putnam, and Elizabeth Hubbard — were brought in, to the front of the room, screeching and crying out as they laid eyes on the prisoner. Their fear flooded the room. I breathed it in and had to grab Mem’s hand to squeeze out mine own urge to scream.
The adults around the girls soothed them. When it was quiet again, Mr. Hathorne asked them to look upon Sarah Goode and see if she was the person who hurt them. They all said yes, yes! She did torment them, for the past two months, at their houses and elsewhere.
Sarah Goode looked shocked and confused. She denied that she had been at their houses. She claimed she had not even been near the children. At that, Abigail Williams and Ann Putnam twisted and cried out that the witch was pinching and biting them, right then and there in the Meeting House. We could all see Sarah Goode slumped in her chains looking angry. The witch was sending her invisible specter out of her body to hurt the girls!
Soon, Betty Parris and Elizabeth Hubbard joined in. It was terrifying to witness, and I felt a hot passion against Sarah Goode. Someone behind me muttered, “The woman should hang for this.”
The girls were again soothed, and the questioning continued. The witch denied tormenting the children. She claimed it must be the others they brought to the Meeting House. It must be Osborn.
Judge Hathorne asked Sarah Goode to tell what she says when she goes muttering away from persons’ houses. She hemmed and hawed and finally said it was the Commandments or Psalms. She could not recite them for him, though, but mumbled incoherently. A true sign of a witch!
And then they brought forth the witch’s husband to testify. “I am afraid that she either is a witch or will be one very quickly,” said he. The assembly gasped like a gust of wind. Furthermore, he added, “I may say with tears that she is an enemy to all good.” The crowd seethed and hissed like a kettle boiling over.
Neighbors popped up shouting out their stories of cakes that had fallen after Sarah Goode came knocking, of cows that had dried up or even died, of crops that had withered. Beside me Mem lifted her handkerchief to her mouth and coughed into it, her wristbone protruding. It was a soft cough, of the everyday sort, but Mem has grown so thin from her sickness, every cough causes me to worry that she will fall apart.
Electrical lightning coursed through my veins, and brought me to my feet. Did I really thunder out that Sarah Goode had come to our house and left muttering a Devil’s prayer? That she left Mem dreadfully ill and the chickens suddenly barren? Dear God in Heaven, I pray that I will not regret it. I beg Thee, please do
not let the witch’s vengeful specter come ride me like the other girls!
The questioning continued. Sarah Goode became ever more spiteful in her answers, and even used some base and wicked words against the authorities. Pray God bringeth justice strong and swift.
My hand and eyes tire. Tomorrow I will write how Sarah Osborn denied everything and how Tituba confessed without confessing.
Wednesday ye 2nd of March
I am exhausted for lack of sleep. With every itch or sensation on my skin I worry that Sarah Goode has come to prick me with pins, but so far I have seen no specters of her.
At the examinations today the judges and witches mostly repeated themselves, with very little new to add. However, Samuel Baybrook, who had to guard her, reported that Sarah Goode leaped off her horse three times, trying to get away. Ann Putnam declared that she saw the whole scene in her spectral visions.
The examination of Sarah Osborn went much the same as Sarah Goode’s. Mr. Hathorne asked many questions, and the witch denied the accusations. The children were asked if they recognized her. Every one of them said that this was one of the women who did afflict them, and they had seen her in these very clothes she now wore. She denied this, and then the girls all screamed and twisted in agony before our eyes. The witch who tortured them with her specter could barely hold herself up. She sat swaying on the platform in bewilderment.
How was it that the girls could see the Invisible World that afflicted them and we could not? It was terrifying. Mem let out a gasp and plugged her mouth with her hand. I had to bite my fingernails so I would not cry out. Now my fingers are bleeding sore. In fact, when I went to open up my book, the paper did cut into a sore, and got blood on this page in the shape of a half-moon.
Sarah Osborn then declared that she was more likely to be bewitched than be a witch. She had been frightened once in her sleep, she claimed, and saw a thing like an Indian all black, which did pinch her in the neck, and pulled her by the back part of her head to the door of the house. She sounded frightened enough telling of it, that I felt brief sympathy for her. Then Mr. Hathorne made it clear that the black spirit was in fact the Devil taking her after she made a contract with him.
Her husband and others testified that Sarah Osborn had not been at Sunday Meeting these three years and two months. She protested that she had been too sick to leave the house, but nobody believed that any longer.
Giles Corey caught my eye and grinned, gloating that he had been right about the woman in his argument with Goody Corey. I wonder what she thinks now? I wish Goody Corey would come to these examinations. I miss talking with her.
After they took out Sarah Osborn on Tuesday, they brought in Tituba. The slave woman has dark skin and eyes that would please me to look at if I did not know she is an Indian. Oh, I hope the Wabanakis are kind to my stepmother! Tituba has a pleasant voice, even though it takes concentration to follow her accent. Her examination went on for hours upon hours, and I do not want to run out of ink, so I will just say the best parts of her confession.
Tituba admits that the Devil comes to her, and bids her to serve him! Sometimes he comes as a tall man from Boston, sometimes as a hog, sometimes a great black dog. He always asks her to hurt and kill the children. However, she refuses to do his bidding, even though he threatens to hurt her. This man keeps a yellow bird with him. She has seen it suck the blood between Sarah Goode’s fingers. Also she has seen Sarah Osborn with some creature that has two legs and wings and a head like a woman, and they did taunt Abigail Williams. She told how the witches rode their sticks to the Putnams’, and told how they dressed in silk hoods with topknots.
The more she talked, and the more she accused the other two witches, the more she became afflicted herself. Complained she of bites and pinpricks as if she were one of the four girls. She claimed the other two women did torment her for testifying against them.
As if it did not cause enough uproar that Tituba had seen the Devil right here in Salem Village, she said that four women sometimes hurt the children. Four! Not just three? Mr. Hathorne tried to pry from her the identity of the fourth person, but “I am blind now,” Tituba said, “I cannot see.” She refused to speak anymore.
I felt faint realizing that another witch might be in our midst at this very moment, watching the proceedings out of evil eyes. Had I vexed the fourth witch when I spoke against Sarah Goode? Oh, how I wish I had kept my mouth shut!
Thursday ye 3rd of March
Today, Ann Putnam said the specter of Dorcas Goode was holding the Devil’s Book and thrust it out at Ann to make her sign it. Is a little girl the fourth witch? I cannot imagine!
More examinations, more of the same. Goode and Osborn refuse to confess, even though Tituba has witnessed them at their evil work. Now Tituba says that the Reverend Deodat Lawson’s wife and child had been the victims of witchcraft. They died when he was Minister here in the Village. She also says she has seen nine names in the Devil’s Book. Nine! A coven. I hope they are from Boston, and not in our midst. It is frightful to know that so many witches might be around, and sad to realize they can be none other than people we know, and call our friends.
Whispers are flying that the Reverend Parris beat the confession out of Tituba. Nobody questions the truth of what she says, but I am confused about two things. If Tituba knew she was guilty, why did she bake the witch cake that would catch her? And after telling so much about the witches in such vivid detail, why could she not describe the fourth one whom the girls had not named? Her clam lips make me curious, but it is not my place to question. The Lord will reveal the answers in His own way.
Friday ye 4th
Relief! No examinations today, but more tomorrow. Much work to be done to make up for time lost in the Village. If I finish mucking out the barn and catch up on the spinning, I will go find out what is happening to Mrs. Rowlandson.
Saturday ye 5th
Barn mucked. Still behind on spinning. No time for Mrs. Rowlandson yesterday, still hopeful for today. Before I can go, Mem wants me to write a letter to the Coopers and sign our uncle’s name. This bold lie I will not commit. However, I will write an honest letter in my own name.
Dear Mr. Cooper,
Good day, Sir. I am penning this letter for mine uncle because it is impossible to read his handwriting. Whatever the subject is that you would like to discuss with him, you may feel free to put into writing. You will then be able to receive a response even if our uncle be absent when you visit.
God Bless ye and keep ye,
Deliverance Trembley
Now I will go copy the letter onto good paper and show it to Mem. After it is sealed and addressed, she will go to the Village and see if there is anyone riding to Haver’il who would be willing to deliver it for us.
Sunday ye 6th
When I got to the farm yesterday, Goody Corey was out in the yard arguing with her husband not to go to the Village again. Against her pleading, he saddled up his horse, determined to attend the examinations. I am sure that if only she would go once and experience the scene for herself, she would understand, and be convinced of the witches’ guilt. What the mind denies, the spirit feels. But it was not my place to get in the middle of their squabble, so I kept my opinion to myself and kept out of the way.
Goody Corey stamped over and grabbed the saddle off the horse. She let her husband know she did not approve of this witch hunt. She wanted him to take no part in it, either, but he hopped on his horse barebacked and galloped away to spite her. Two of his sons-in-law went with him!
Goody Corey and I read some Proverbs for wisdom. Then we caught up with Mrs. Rowlandson, who is now on her Fifteenth Remove with a burned mouth because she was so greedy to gobble up food off the fire. Even when the starved soul can get enough food to fill her stomach, she is never satisfied. Mrs. Rowlandson makes me very grateful for all I have, though it looks like so little.
When I left, Goody Corey sent me home with double my usual handful of corn, and a piece of smoked pork besides! I
hid the corn but gave Mem the meat. She cooked it in a soup of peas and carrots until it fell apart into the most savory meal I have ever tasted. She told stories of our mother, and I went to sleep feeling quite content.
The thought that Sarah Goode might be pricking me with pins escaped me entirely until I woke up with a cramp in my foot. Now I am wide awake and wondering: Do witches have anything to do with our uncle being gone so long? Did they sink his ship? Did they send wolves to attack him on his way home? Did the Wabanakis get him? Oh, how I wish we could find out where he is, and if he be safe.
Time to get Mem up for church.
Monday ye 7th of March
The day of rest was a day of stress. During any pauses between prayers and sermons the afflicted girls were tortured horribly, falling to the floor as if dead, screeching that they were being pricked by pins, and so on. “Who harms ye? Who hurts ye? Who rides ye?” people called out, but nothing the girls said made sense.
Though the Meeting House was full, a few places were empty. The Nurses, the Cloyses, the Eastys, and a few other devout Puritans are attending the mother church in Salem Town instead. There, children are not permitted to make disturbances. Goody Corey told me if it were not so far to travel and she did not have such a stubborn husband, she would do the same.
During the nooning she paid no attention to the fits of the girls, but went off to a corner and got on her knees to pray. When the services were over and everyone got up to leave, someone asked loudly why Martha Corey stayed at home during the examinations. Goodman Corey and sons had already run off their mouths to everyone about how Goody Corey does not believe in witches. A silence fell, and people stopped to hear her answer. My heart stopped, too.
I Walk in Dread (9780545388047) Page 7